


On the Ice

by chasingapollo11



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Major Character Injury, Yes you read that right, can you believe i was supposed to finish this by january, hockey player Ryo, ice skater Akira, ice sports au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:50:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingapollo11/pseuds/chasingapollo11
Summary: What does it mean to be known to somebody? To be vulnerable? Is it like falling? Is it like stepping on ice?In a stroke of chance, hardworking figure skater Akira Fudo meets injured hockey player Ryo Asuka.





	On the Ice

Hockey is a brutal sport. The players skate on ice at awe-inspiring speeds, swing with devastating force, and clamber after each other while wearing literal knife shoes and wielding giant sticks. It’s vicious, it’s terrifying, and it’s nothing like the figure skating world Akira knows, where such animosity is, at the most, subtle and off the ice.

Still, it’s amazing. It’s the first hockey game Akira has ever taken the time to actually watch, despite figure skating and and ice hockey sharing the same rink at his university. The match seems especially important, if Miko and Miki hadn’t already stressed, as it was up against their university’s rival in all things “sports”. The two had insisted Akira come and relax with them before figure skating completely ate up his life.

“And there goes Number Six stealing the puck yet again! Ladies and gentlemen, look at that agility! Is this another point for the Devils?”

“Yeah!” Miko yells, leaning forward excitedly. “Kick their ass!”

Akira snorts, taking a sip of the water he had been given by Miki. He was trying to resist the temptation of stealing Miko’s beer, though he knew his coach would sooner flay him alive if he broke his conditioning diet. He steals a glance at Miki, whose green eyes are locked onto the livestream. She’s too focused to entertain Akira, which sucks because Miko gets mad at him if he asks too many questions about hockey rules.

To be honest, Akira has felt lost for the past half hour, though this must be an important play if both Miki and Miko have gone silent. Number Six, a somewhat smaller and thinner player compared to the rest of his bigger team members, is in control of the puck, weaving elegantly through the throng of opposing players.

Akira takes a glance from his phone, preparing to go through with his plan of stealing Miko’s beer, when Miki suddenly sits up, her hands over her mouth in shock. Akira’s head whips up, taking in both her and Miko’s wide-eyed stares towards the screen.

The ice is at a complete standstill, though several of the university’s players are beginning to skate towards the edge of the rink where two referees are gathered. One is gesturing for something off the rink, and the other is sternly talking to an opposing player. The opposing player simply shrugs and brushes off the referee’s words.

Medics swoop onto the ice with a stretcher, joining the fray and yelling at players to make a path for them. As they take to the area where the two referees have been crouched over, it becomes obvious to see what had happened in the brief moment Akira had looked away.

Without all his deadly grace, Player Number Six looks smaller as he lays on the ice, curled in pain. His helmet had been ripped off in the fray, and his blonde hair is matted to his pale face with sweat. He’s saying something to the medics, but the expression of pain he wears on his face is enough to make Akira’s eyes well with tears. Number Six is grasping his left leg and side. Through the gear he’s wearing, the injury is severe enough to be seen. A broken leg.

* * *

 

“Miki, I swear to all things good and holy in this world that I will not be late to dinner!” Akira groans. Through his phone, he can hear Miki’s long-suffering sigh.

“I don’t believe you. Akira, you said that the last three times. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

She has a point, Akira knows this. “You saw me a few weeks ago!”

“Akira."

“Miki.”

There’s a long silence from Miki’s end, until Akira finally relents. “Fine, fine! I’ll get dinner with you. I’m not third-wheeling tonight, am I?”

Miki huffs. “Yes, I am inviting Miko. She wanted to check out this new Thai place. Plus you need social interaction with people other than me or your roommate.”

“Miki! I love you and Miko’s literally a badass, but you know how awkward I get watching you feed her all night!” Akira pauses. “And I do interact with others besides you and Koda!”

Which definitely is not a lie. Koda’s hardly in their dorm, for reasons he doesn’t question, and he sometimes talks to that group of rappers down the hall, but his point still stands.

MIki’s response is sugary sweet, and damn it, they may as well be adults now, but a pang of fear still shoots through Akira when she uses the same voice she used before fighting him in high school. “Be there tonight Akira. I know where your rink is.”

The dial tone sounds like a funeral bell in his ear.

Akira sets his phone down on the locker room bench, sighing as he shoves his bag into an empty locker. He knows that Miki means well. Years of watching Akira skate and an even longer amount of time spent being practically family, Miki (and by extension her own family) had supported him at every point in his life. He loves her dearly, and whether he likes it or not, she has a point.

Akira is still silently fuming about his practice time being reduced as he leaves the locker room and heads into the rink.

“Stupid Miki and her dumb common sense and her slappy hands-”

Akira’s grumble stops as he looks at the spot where the hard floor of the rink meets the ice. There’s a single crutch laying on the ice, as though it had fallen from where it was leaned against the wall.

_What in the hell?_

“That’s mine.”

Akira’s head snaps up. There, on the ice, is a guy.

He’s dressed all in white, making him kind of hard to look at under the rink’s lights. Even then, Akira can’t tear his eyes away from him. _Come on Fudo, say something smooth-_

“What?”

 _Nice._ The guy (an angel, Akira is convinced) gestures towards the crutch, and then at another crutch scattered further away. “They’re mine. I, uh...well.” He gestures at his foot. “I fell.”

Akira does his best not to choke. The other’s leg is broken and wrapped in a cast. He’s not even wearing any skates on his uninjured foot.

“You’re injured and you went on the ice?”

The guy gives him a haughty stare, raising his chin slightly. For someone literally trapped on the ice (how long had he been sitting there anyway?), he commands a royal authority. “Yes.”

“Right...okay, I’ll get you out, just give me a second.” Akira carefully picks up the crutch and sets it down near a seating area outside the rink. He sets his skates down, steps onto the ice, retrieves the other crutch, and sets it down next to its match. “Okay, I’m coming. Hold tight.”

Up close, the guy is absurdly gorgeous. Long eyelashes and blue eyes, with blonde hair curling around his shoulders. He looks kind of pale, probably as a result of sitting on the ice for however long he had before Akira walked in.

“I can’t exactly stand.” Blondie says once Akira gets closer.

“Don’t worry! I’ll support your left side and most of your weight. Just hold on tight.” Akira tries not to cringe at that last sentence, ignoring the raised eyebrow the other gives him.

“I swear I’m stronger than I look.” He crouches, wrapping his arm under the guy’s armpit and around his waist. “Okay, try standing with me. One, two...three!”

Akira rises, half dragging the other with him, and balances them when they both wobble. “Okay. Alright. Let’s just waddle to the rink’s exit.” The other guy nods, and his fingers are kind of digging into Akira’s shoulder, but Akira is confident they can make it. He shifts them forward, but it becomes apparent that the other man can’t take a step with his left, and hopping on the ice would bring them both crashing down.

“This isn’t working, I think.” The blond murmurs. “I only made it this far thanks to my crutches pushing me forward.”

“Yeah, well, probably shouldn’t have gone onto the ice with a broken leg in the first place.” Akira says back. There’s really only one option. Hopefully, this won’t make the blonde hate his guts. “How much do you weigh?”

The man gives him a flat stare. “What?”

Akira bends down slightly, hooking an arm around the other guy’s knees and sweeping him up. He tries not to laugh at the short yelp from the other, and adjusts his hold on him.

“I-You don’t have to carry me!”

“Relax! I might fall if you keep flailing,” Akira says, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

He shuffles the both of them forward, ignoring how the other is murderously glaring at him. By the time they get to the rink’s edge, the other man looks thoroughly embarrassed, looking up to the sky as though asking for a bus to come and run them both down.

Akira sighs as they step onto the hard floor again, quickly heading towards the small sitting area along the wall, and setting the other down where he had left his crutches. “See that wasn’t so bad, right? Seriously, what were you even doing on the ice?”

Belatedly, Akira realizes the other man is already starting to get up and stand with his crutches. “It’s none of your concern,” he snarks, turning and hobbling away. The tips of his ears are red. He pauses before opening the door to the locker room.

“But...thanks. I’ll remember this,” he adds in a softer tone.

The door swings shut behind him.

Later that night, Miko can’t stop laughing at him. “Akira, are you seriously telling me that you carried the, and I quote, prettiest human being, in your arms and you didn’t even get his name?”

Akira buries his head in his arms, groaning. “Why is it that I’m always attacked when I get dinner with you guys?”

Miki giggles behind her hand. “I can’t believe he went on the ice injured like that.”

“I’m just trying to imagine it,” Miko says between wheezes of laughter, “Akira literally sweeping him off his feet.”

Taking pity on him, Miki ruffles Akira’s hair. “It is kind of funny, Akira. Next time, ask for his name.”

“Or his number,” Miko interjects, eyes gleaming with humor.

“Like he’ll come back to the rink anyway,” Akira sighs. “After something like that? I wouldn’t.”

* * *

 

To Akira’s surprise, the blond does come back. He’s there during the university’s scheduled time slot for weekly team practices. While they do keep the doors open for people to spectate their on-ice practices, there’s hardly ever been visitors this early in the season.

Sadly, Akira can’t even speak to him this time around, too caught up with practice. It’s a regular practice today, no jumps or spins yet. As a skater participating in the short program and free skate events, all Akira has to do is pick his music and meet with his coach by next week’s practice to start choreographing for their first competition in about a month’s time.

To Akira’s credit, he does wave at the guy. He’s sitting in the seating area, a laptop out in front of him. The guy stares at him for a moment, before hesitatingly waving back. Akira silently counts it as a victory, before skating away to practice his footwork. And so the day goes.

The blond isn’t there the next day after that, but he is the following day, sitting in the seats closest to the rink and typing away on his laptop. Swallowing his nerves, Akira walks over to him and takes the seat next to him.

“Hey! It’s cool seeing you again. I didn’t get your name last time.” He scratches the back of his head. “I’m Akira.”

The guy looks up. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail today and he’s wearing glasses.

“I’m Ryo. Ryo Asuka.” He smiles thinly. “You don’t mind me sitting here while you practice, do you?”

 _Ryo._ Finally, a name to put to that face.

“Watch all you like!” Akira stammers out. He pointedly ignores Ryo’s amused expression. “So, you must be a student too, right? I mean, the rink only gives access to the athletes in any ice sports so they can practice.”

Ryo’s smile fades and he looks a little guarded now. “Yeah, I’m on the hockey team.”

_Hockey?_

“Oh! I saw your most recent game online. It looked really cool, but really…” Akira suddenly realizes. Hockey. The broken leg. Blond hair. “...crazy.”

“Crazy,” Ryo repeats. “Yeah. It was.”

“Ryo,” Akira asks, carefully watching the other’s expression. “Are you Number Six?”

Ryo smiles wryly. “What gave it away?”

“Oh shit, Ryo, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean anything.” Akira sighs. “You really are amazing out there. It sucks that you got injured.”

To Akira’s surprise, Ryo places a hand on his shoulder, shaking it like he was scolding Akira. “Don’t be sorry. You weren’t the one who mowed me down and broke my leg.”

“It looked like it really hurt.”

“Well, next season I’ll make him pay.”

Akira looks up at Ryo’s face. He looks angry, his entire facial expression gone cold. “My injury took me out of the season completely. But I’m coming back and he’s mine _.”_

Akira’s silent for a moment, alarmed by Ryo’s sudden change and silently digesting this information. “So...a few days ago. Was that your attempt to skate?”

Ryo’s furious expression melts away into embarrassment. He ears turn red and the sight is enough to make Akira start laughing.

“I can't believe this,” Akira wheezes. “Your crutches were scattered on the ice. You were just sitting there-”

Ryo huffs. “Before you came in, I had every intention of crawling to the rink’s exit. Stop laughing at me!”

“I had so many questions.” Akira snorts. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop laughing.”

Ryo rolls his eyes. “Good. So then, you’re a figure skater, right? Shouldn’t you be practicing for your upcoming competition?”

“Yeah. You can stay and watch as long as you like.” Akira starts to tie on his skates. “Today, I’m just testing out some style elements I’m thinking of incorporating into my free skate.” He stands and stretches. “How long are you gonna stay here?”

“Maybe about half an hour more.” Ryo answers. “You sure you don’t mind me sitting here while you practice?”

“Course not!” Akira says, smirking. “I’m not shy, Ryo.”

Ryo scoffs at that, turning his gaze down to his laptop. “Well. Alright then. Don’t mind me.”

Laughing under his breath, Akira takes to the ice, and if he shows off just a little more than usual, then no one else is there to call him out on it.

In the days leading up to his first competition, Ryo is there nearly every day that Akira is, either working at his laptop, reading by the rink-side, or on his phone. He greets Akira, they talk for a little, and Akira skates. Occasionally he’ll ask Ryo to videotape him so he can see his own skating, or he’ll ask Ryo about what move looks better.

He doesn’t ask why Ryo keeps showing up. He kind of feels like it isn’t his business, so he tries to keep Ryo entertained. He seemed to have gotten a kick out of watching Akira practice jumps in what was essentially a harness attached to a fishing pole held by the assistant coach. Whenever he failed a jump, in order to save him from a nasty fall, the pole would be yanked upward and Akira would jerk around for a few seconds like a puppet on strings. Akira decides then that Ryo looks the best when he’s laughing.

He eventually gets around to choosing music. For his short program, he chooses ‘Clair de Lune’, a wistful, lonely song with an echoing piano. And for his short program, he chooses an instrumental piece titled ‘Crybaby.’ With its soaring melody and mournful sound, he plans to fully milk his talent for the emotional aspect of his skates.

* * *

 

The day before he goes to his first competition alongside the university’s figure skating team, he grabs lunch with Ryo at a pho shop that he had insisted Akira would love.

“You’ve been skating since you were 10? That’s way longer than I’ve been playing hockey.” Ryo looks impressed.

“Yeah, I never thought I’d get serious about it, but here I am now,” Akira says. “What about you? How’d you get into hockey?”

“My dad.” Ryo smiles dryly. “He thought I needed an outlet in high school and so I joined the local hockey club.”

“Did you ever get scared playing it at first?”

Ryo shrugs. “A little. But not really, even though I was, and still am, not as big as my teammates. I could still take a hit though. I think my leg being broken is the worst injury I’ve ever gotten.”

Akira cringes. “How long are you in that cast anyway?”

“Until late February. But I have to do physical therapy if I want to return to the ice.”

“That really sucks, Ryo.” Akira takes a sip of the broth. They eat in silence for a little.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?”

Akira mulls over the question. “A little. It’s our first competition and there’s still a lot of work I need to do.”

Which is, unfortunately true. There’s still time to improve until March, when their final competition is, but having to downgrade his programs for the best possible score as of the moment is frustrating.

Ryo nods. “Figure skaters sure are something else. I didn’t really know much about it until I met you.”

Akira snorts. “You wouldn’t believe how much of our sport is overlooked. It’s like people think jumping and spinning on ice is easy.”

“Believe me when I say you look amazing, Akira,” Ryo says warmly. “I haven’t seen your whole program but I can tell it’s going to be good with how much practice you’ve put into it.”

“You think I look amazing?” Akira says, wiggling his eyebrows. “That means a lot coming from you, Ryo.”

Ryo rolls his eyes. “I retract my statement. And what do you mean coming from me?”

“Nope, you can’t retract what I’ve already heard!” Akira pauses. “You’re kind of really pretty Ryo. Like devastatingly. If looks could kill, we’d all be dead.”

Ryo coughs, looking embarrassed. “I...thank you.”

Akira feels hot. “Yeah, no problem. This place is great by the way! Really hit the spot. I can pay for this one.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Ryo replies, smiling. “And I’m paying. It’s the least I could do before you leave.”

Akira wants to argue, but a few weeks of hanging out with Ryo and he knows that there’s no way to change his mind once its set. “Fine. But I’m paying next time.”

They start to walk to Ryo’s car. As always on outings like this, Ryo has coerced him into carrying all their things, on account of being injured. Akira had complained at first, unwilling to carry Ryo’s coat and bag alongside his own things. In response, Ryo had brought up Akira having the strength to pick him up, wearing a shit-eating grin the entire time he recounted their first meeting. The embarrassment alone convinced Akira to just take the stuff and go.

He’s not sure how he fell into such an easy rhythm with Ryo. He doesn’t know a lot about Ryo, and sometimes it seems like Ryo would rather remain unknown in certain areas. Akira doesn’t mind. They have time.

Still, he enjoys spending time with the blond and getting to know all the little nuances that make up ‘Ryo Asuka.’ There’s laughing Ryo, which unfortunately, usually came at Akira’s expense. There’s stubborn Ryo, haughty Ryo, and the combination of those two: I’m-better-than-you Ryo. There’s teasing Ryo, flustered Ryo, and avoidant Ryo, who usually all appear in that order. There’s teacher Ryo, which according to the man himself, is a result of having a professor as a father. There’s absolutely-pissed-off Ryo, whose cold attitude is a direct contrast to warm Ryo, the one that sits by the rink and watches him skate for reasons that Akira can’t place.

He really wishes he could take Ryo with him to this competition.

“Don’t look so worried, Akira.” Ryo’s voice cuts through his thinking. He looks up at the mirror and meets Ryo’s eyes. “You’ll be fine.”

“Is it that obvious?” Akira sighs, looking out the window. “I don’t want to mess up tomorrow knowing that my program isn’t even at the level I want it to be yet. Does that even make sense?”

“You don’t want to disappoint yourself?”

“I...yeah. Or anyone else.”

Ryo turns into the university dorm parking. He’s silent as he parks and stops the car.

“Akira,” Ryo starts, “Just do your best tomorrow. That’s all you can ever do, right? Do your best and come back and if anyone says shit, then they obviously don’t know how much you’ve worked for it.”

He pauses. “And in the end, if you don’t think you were enough, you are. Your skating is like nothing I’d ever seen. Tomorrow will be fine.”

“Yeah,” Akira whispers. “It’ll be fine. Thanks, Ryo.”

To mask that he’s maybe one second away from bawling in Ryo’s passenger seat, he leans forward and pulls the blond into a hug. It's awkward: the console is digging into Akira’s ribs and Ryo is twisted in such a way that can not be comfortable, but the hug beats away the rest of the doubts in Akira’s mind. When Akira pulls away, Ryo looks visibly flustered, but he’s smiling.

“Anytime, Akira.”

The next day, while lounging on the couch and chipping away at his classwork, Ryo’s phone lights up with a notification.

It’s a Snapchat of Akira, his hair slicked back. He’s wearing an athletics jacket, open to reveal a black costume with red accents underneath. He’s holding up a peace sign, smiling in glee. The caption reads, “Did pretty well! Almost flubbed my step sequence and definitely messed up on a jump, but I saved it.”

The next photo is a closeup of his face and a woman, who Ryo recognizes as Akira’s coach. There’s arrows pointing to her eyeliner and Akira’s own. The caption reads, “Also did my own eyeliner for once. Coach Silene is very proud.”

Snickering, Ryo taps to the next message. It’s a video, a sweeping shot of a giant rink with figure skaters in costume and spectators milling around everywhere. The caption reads, “All these people and it’s you who I wish was here with me.”

Ryo reads that caption three more times, his face hot. He put down his phone, burying his face in his hands.

Surely Akira didn’t mean it in that way? But what if he did? Ryo puts a hand over his heart, feeling it’s thudding beneath his palm. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

Akira was probably just joking. They’d become good friends in the short time they’d known each other, and maybe Akira was just poking fun at him. Yeah, that was it.

That had to be it.

* * *

 

In the days following Akira’s return from his first competition, Akira and Ryo swapped their meeting place from the rink to the library. With December, came finals, and with finals, came studying. While it could be argued that they spent more time talking rather than studying, Ryo’s ability to keep on task ended up being both their saving grace. On one such study session, Miki asked if she could join them in a barely concealed ploy to finally meet the blond that had suddenly appeared in Akira’s life.

“I apologize in advance, Ryo.” Akira sighs. “I already know Miki’s going to tell you all sorts of embarrassing shit about me.”

Ryo smirks, his eyes glittering over the top of his laptop. “I’m excited to meet her then. She’s like your sister, right?”

Akira nods. “Yeah, her family basically took me in while my parents were abroad. What are you studying for tonight?”

“It’s a class on urban anthropology,” Ryo says. “It’s nothing too heavy. My father has taught the class before as well, so it’s not the first time I’ve heard of it’s content.”

“Your old man?” Ryo never really talks about his family. “Is he still teaching here?”

“Yes, but he’s away right now. Off on a research trip to South America.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I plan to visit him during break.”

Ryo lets the subject fall, returning to whatever he was reading on his laptop. They’re silent for a few minutes. Akira accepts the comfortable silence, returning to the psychology notes spread out in front of him. Between practicing at the rink and attending class, Akira had fallen behind in studying, something that he hadn’t excelled at in the first place.

“Akira?”

At the sound of his name, Akira looks behind him. Miki is weaving her way through the tables, waving excitedly.

“Hey!” Miki says, once she arrives at their table. “Sorry I’m late.”

She puts her bag down next to Akira, and reaches a hand across the table to Ryo. “I’m Miki. I’m sure Akira has told you all these terrible things about me, and I want you to know that they aren’t true.”

Ryo smiles, taking her hand. “I’ll take your word over his.”

Miki returns his smile with a wicked one of her own, releasing his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Akira talks about you a lot.”

Ryo looks at Akira, amusement in his eyes. “Oh, does he?”

“Yeah! He never shuts up.” She yelps when Akira jabs her in the side.

“Anyway!” Akira gives Miki the evil eye. This has to be revenge for when he accidently told Miko that Miki had a crush on her. “To clarify, I only told her about how we met.”

“I despise that.” Ryo rolls his eyes. “It’s not a good first impression.”

“Well, it was _my_ first impression.”

Miki snorts. “Technically, no. Ryo, we were watching your game. You’ve probably heard it before but I’m sorry about your injury.”

“No need to apologize,” Ryo says, “I’ll be returning to the ice next year. Do you watch our games often?”

“Yup! My girlfriend and I watch your games sometimes. It’s truly student athlete solidarity.” Miki grins. “You’re amazing on the ice! You’re really intense, it’s kind of scary.”

“It’s funny you say that,” Ryo says, his eyes gleaming, “My teammates actually used to call me Satan for my behavior on the ice.”

Akira wheezes with laughter. “What, seriously?”

“Well, you know, we are the Devils.” Ryo shrugs. “I was honored to be nicknamed after the ruler himself.”

Miki snorts. “That beats mine. I’ve been called a witch before for my running.”

“Man, I wish I had a cool nickname.” Akira frowns. “I don’t think I’ve been nicknamed at all in my figure skating career.”

Miki giggles. “Yes, you have. Weren’t you nicknamed leaky faucet in middle school?”

“Leaky faucet?” Ryo leans forward, struggling to not laugh. “Why leaky faucet?”

“Miki! Shut up!”

“It’s because he cried a lot during his programs,” Miki says, batting away Akira’s hands. “I thought it was cute.”

Akira groans into his hands. “I forgot all about that. I wish it stayed forgotten.”

“Satan, the witch, and leaky faucet,” Ryo muses, smirking at Akira across the table. “What a trio.”

And so the afternoon went, all three managing to ignore their studies in favor of talking to each other. The next time they meet, Miki swears to bring Miko along. Miki gives both Akira and Ryo a hug before she goes, giving her number to Ryo and making Akira to promise to not overdo it with practice.

* * *

 

The next day, on his way to the rink, Akira drove past a variety of set up stalls and tents. An idea pops into his head as he dismounts, and he doesn't waste any time suggesting it to Ryo, who is waiting in his normal spot by the rink.

“You want me to go gift shopping with you?” Ryo gives Akira strange look.

“Yeah!” Akira says, leaning against the barrier of the ice rink. “There’s an open air holiday market not too far from here and I’m absolutely crap at getting gifts. Please?”

And that’s how Ryo found himself standing outside his apartment, looking at Akira with a blank expression.

“Akira. How exactly am I going to ride on that.”

Akira has the decency to look sheepish. “I figured I could just strap your crutches to the side of my motorcycle. It wasn’t that far, so I didn’t want to make you drive. Plus, I’m the one who asked you to come with me.” He pauses, opening the back seat. “I brought my spare helmet too, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Akira, my leg is broken.”

“Ryo, trust me on this!” Akira gestures to the backseat. “If you’re really afraid, I guess we can take your car.”

Ryo huffs and walks over to Akira. “I’m not afraid. Give me the helmet, Fudo.”

Akira dismounts from the bike and offers a hand to Ryo, smirking. With a side glare, Ryo puts his hand in Akira’s and gives him his right crutch, using Akira as balance to swing a leg over the back of the motorcycle. Akira takes his other crutch, straps them to the bike so that they stick up along it’s right side, and slides back into his seat.

“Here’s your helmet.” He hands the helmet to Ryo, who slides it onto his head. “You can hold onto me if you want, or the bars beside your seat.”

Akira slides his own helmet back on and starts the engine. With a putter, they start cruising down the road. Like an afterthought, Ryo wraps his arms around Akira’s midriff, cursing under his breath. Akira laughs in response, wincing when Ryo’s hand pinches his side in warning.

Arriving at the market with no complications, Ryo reluctantly dislodges himself from Akira’s back.

“How long have you had this?” He asks, removing the helmet and fixing his hair. “I’ve seen it outside the rink, but didn’t think it was yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Akira responds, handing Ryo his crutches. “I wear exclusively black and I don’t look like the type of guy to own a motorcycle?”

Ryo snorts, standing up and adjusting his coat. “No offense Akira, but yes.”

Akira scoffs. “Whatever. Anyway, I’ve had this bike for about a year now.” He sniffles, wiping away a fake tear. “She’s my pride and joy.”

Ryo chuckles at that, looking at the market entrance. It’s marked by a two large pine trees, both covered in lights and fake snow. There are more lights strung between the stalls of each booth, and cheery music fills the air. People are walking around inside, parents following their children, teenagers clustered in large groups, and couples walking hand in hand. Ryo glances at Akira, suddenly nervous, and is startled when he realizes that Akira is already staring at him.

“Have you ever been to a Christmas market before?” Akira asks. “I’ve been to a lot, but only ever with family.”

“No,” Ryo responds. “I’ve never been.”

“Geez, Ryo.” Akira says, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to show you true holiday cheer.”

“I thought we were here to gift shop,” Ryo says blandly.

“We can do that and have some fun!” Akira responds. “This place gets real pretty at night, so we should stay until then.”

“If you want,” Ryo sighs, not seeing any point in arguing. “Who are you giving gifts to?”

“My parents, Miki’s parents, Taro, Miki, and Miko.” Akira counts each person off. “Yeah, that's it I think. What about you?”

“...my father, I suppose.” At Akira’s aghast expression, he tries to think of a few more people. “Miki, too. And...you, I guess.”

“Me?” Akira snorts. “Ryo, now the surprise is ruined.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise?” Ryo can’t help but smile. “Akira, you brought me here to gift shop.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Akira mutters. “Well, let’s get looking. I already see something Miki would like.”

By the time the sun starts setting and all the lights within the market start to to flicker on, Akira and Ryo have one bag of gifts each. Ryo had sneakily bought Akira a present at one booth, shoving him away when he tried to see what it was. Unbeknownst to Ryo, Akira had also gotten him something.

The visit to the Christmas market had been an utter success, in Akira’s eyes. Ryo looked like he was enjoying himself, softly smiling at the booths and decorations, and even staring in wonder at how the market had transformed upon nightfall. The orange glow of the lights around them were reflected in his blue eyes, making him look so much more beautiful.

_Beautiful? Get it together, this is Ryo you’re thinking about. He doesn’t think about you that way._

Still, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ryo look so at peace, ever.

“Akira?” Akira’s coughs, looking at literally any other direction other than Ryo’s. “Is there something on my face?”

“No!” He clears his throat. “No, sorry, I spaced out.”

“Oh, well,” Ryo says, “I wanted to thank you. For bringing me here. I had a lot of fun.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! I’m glad you had a lot of-”

“I wasn’t finished,” Ryo interrupts, his face turning pink, “I also wanted to thank you for your companionship. I’m glad to have met you.” Ryo breaks eye contact. “I got you a gift, and I thought it was fitting.”

He digs through his bag, and pulls out an object. In the palm of his hand is a red string bracelet.

Ryo clears his throat. “The shopkeeper told me it symbolizes good luck. As well as a reminder, of a person’s loved ones.”

Akira takes the bracelet, his eyes wide. “Wow, Ryo, thank you!” He slips it onto his wrist. “I’m glad to have met you as well. I’ll wear this thing all the time.”

He scratches the back of his head. “I got you a gift too, but now I think it’s kind of lame compared to yours.”

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a necklace with a metal wing charm dangling at the bottom. “I, uh, kind of got it as a joke ever since you told Miki and I what your nickname was on the ice. After all, Satan was an angel right? Hence, the wing.”

Ryo takes the necklace, slipping it over his head. He’s smiling in a way Akira hasn’t seen before, fond and happy. “I love it. Thank you, Akira.”

Here, now, with the orange lights making every feature of Ryo’s face softer and warmer, Akira thinks with startling clarity of all the things he’d do to make sure that Ryo would always smile that way. What he’d do to keep him happy and at peace.

_Oh._

**Author's Note:**

> and thats part one! dont fact check me on the hockey and ice skating mechanisms,,,im in neither of those sports and i just went off research and a few youtube videos. 
> 
> thanks for reading, and see you in part two <3


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